I once wrote a bit about space and place, the sacredness of a particular intersection of latitudes and longitudes, a characterization bestowed and bequeathed through the grace which accompanies memories both shared and personal. This is what we’re all about, why we love home – no matter how the definition shifts and varies; why we love a place we may have visited rarely or even just once or even never. Things occurred, people met and interacted and created while walking their individual journeys, and the place was transformed. *Is* transformed.

{Mark Mulville / Buffalo News}

I haven’t been to The Ralph in more than a decade. I KNOW.

Time be damned, it has never stopped feeling like home. One of my many, admittedly. Funny for a place I’ve probably spent less than 50 hours in, plus another 150 or so immediately outside, plus another thousand or so from afar, linked by crazy ass technology and an unshakable, unmistakable hope in my gut. It's both a tragic and beloved part of the identity I have forged. My first visit to Ralph Wilson Stadium was long before it was renamed, but I couldn’t tell you the year. I think it was during the Super Bowl years, but I can’t be sure because my dad never cared about these things as much as I came to. It was cold, but we felt warm. December, I think. Broncos, maybe? It was one of the first moments Buffalo felt like home for me; a moment I can reach out and touch in my memory and recall a sensation I had missed since moving from Western Massachusetts in ’88, and maybe even a sensation I never even felt then. The kind of feeling you don’t know you needed until you have it, thereafter never really feeling like you can do without it. Buffalo was changed, then, for me. It didn’t have to be the place I simply was, distant from a place I had called mine, but transitioned into something far better. When you’re a pretty overweight 11 year old with a punchable face and a heart set on feeling included in a place, nothing better than some football, hugs, and high-fives to ensure you do.

That door to calling Buffalo home having been opened, it was all downhill to feeling entirely rooted, I suppose. As you know, those roots never really break for those of us lucky/cursed enough to call Buffalo home. A combination of equal parts pride and defensiveness settle together and the end product is that we heartily and voraciously love/hate the place we say we’re from. And, for so many of us that have left and feel a constant dull pain of regret as we pine for the eventual return, the act of gathering on Sundays, whether at the games or at our little worldwide pockets of Buffalo that try to replicate the experience, The Ralph remains a weird, vomit-stained, loud and offensive and dangerous beacon of that feeling of home. It’s entirely inappropriate for such a symbol, but it’s what we've got and I’m done fighting the altogether fucking obvious. It’s where we gather and cheer and display our ridiculous selves to the world in a common refrain wherein we shout our City’s pride in tri-pl-et until we can't anymore. It’s absurd and it’s beautiful and there’s little else in the world that makes me feel the same. Nearly 11 years in the bag, 11 years of trying to replicate what I miss at bars or away days or my living room, I get to go back in just about 35 days. I get to come home. Let’s Go Buff-a-lo.

Y'all, we recorded this four nights ago but then a whole hit load of life happened and fuck you for asking. But seriously. Work, a mass of yard work, summer hangouts and loads of Lagunitas chased by spliffs. Here we are. It's the offseason of most things we talked about so nothing is all that out-of-date apart from some baseball talk - the Mets swept those Nationals shut the front door. Delightful. Life filled with delight. Podcast featuring rants about Russ Brandon, Tom Brady, born-again Bills fans, Uber-less Buffalo, our plans for Week 1 tailgates and a few other things that I can't remember since I haven't actually listened to this and just hastily tossed in some musical selections without worrying about the propriety of taking on American Methodists, among others.Good to be back, kids. Music by way of Bleachers, Oddisee, Fitz and the Tantrums, and Priory.

Download here or here. RSS here. iTunes below and a streaming boxey box below that. Old podcasts, and there are a bunch of them, available at deargodwhyussports.libsyn.com or the Deeg Podcast Industries tab at the top banner. Gooey gooey aural goodness.

In the wake of such a joyous victory, it’s probably no surprise that it’s taken a little longer to get a recap up. Words are simply insufficient to express the happiness with which I take every step throughout the Tri-State knowing that my beloved squad has vanquished such an annoying and petulant team from the nether regions of Douchebagistan, New Jersey. Either that, or the Apologist offered to do the recap and then got burnt out by over-thinking it and now I am diligently picking up his fucking predictable slack. Hashtag friendship.

That really was a great game. The first of its kind this year: a convincing win by the Bills; the result never really in doubt beyond half time. Sure, many fans, including a few in my living room, expected the game to fall apart when the Jets finally put a touchdown on the board, but those efforts by Gangrene, excuse me Gang_Green, were woefully insufficient compared to the kind of day Buffalo was having. Fucking unreal, totally unexpected, and still has me tingling from head to toe a day and half later. Bullet points await!!

I am making a pact to not spend more than twenty minutes on putting this quick ragestorm of a post together because, honestly, the Buffalo Bills can go die in a fire for all I care. (Not really please don't move the team I love them inexplicably oh God)

This morning, our 5-7 Buffalo Bills were given a gift. Russel Salvatore, WNY Meat King, agreed to purchase all remaining tickets for the Bills' remaining home games. Apparently, after just one blackout this season, Bills fans are getting bailed out of having to find illegal streams online or listen on the radio or ignore altogether, and the Bills are being bailed out of an ongoing PR nightmare - having to answer questions about ticket sales and TV blackouts without discussing, too much, the underachieving and disappointing team of elephants in the room.

Everybody wins!

Except, of course, on most weeks, the Buffalo Bills.

Let me preface my anger on this point by expressing good feelings for Mr. Salvatore, though his good deed does little to impact my life living outside of WNY's blackout zone. And, to the extent that these extra tickets are given away and a few thousand people that otherwise would have stayed home make it to the game, I have no gripe.

Nevertheless, the fact that this even has to be done is, and should be, an embarrassment. Yet, those Buffalo Bills are apparently the poorly wrapped and overpriced gift that keeps on giving.

During the 2012 Buffalo Bills season, the Scizz will be writing weekly game previews that will hit your eye holes every Thursday night/Friday morning. If you've been a follower of the Deeg for a while, you may remember that last season featured previews inspired by "The Big Lebowski." This year, as voted by our loyal/psychotic/confused readers, "Super Troopers" has been chosen as the ongoing cinematic theme. After a quick rundown of the game, the rest of the post has been inspired by his idol, Drew Magary, and his weekly previews on Deadspin, and will provide you with some solid predictions (false) and other incredible insight you can only get here (so false). So sit back and enjoy the (shit)show.

Actual autographed photo being shopped on e-bay.

The Scizz

Well shit. Where to begin? As I correctly predicted last week, I was a total idiot for once again getting my hopes up for a Buffalo Bills football season. But then again, at least I kind of/sort of saw it coming and drank enough alcohol on Sunday to numb the pain.

Of course, Monday was a different story. Still exhausted from the copious amounts of beer/vodka/whiskey (and a random Jager Bomb) that was consumed, I was forced to recount the previous day's outcome. Ryan Fitzpatrick looks like hot garbage. The defensive line is NOT who we thought they were. The secondary is an absolute joke. And of course, the injury bug has already hit big, as Fred-Ex is out for at least three weeks and David Nelson is out for the year, in a position of need where the team was already extremely undermanned. OH THE JOYS OF FOOTBALL!!!

Yet I'm not here to continue to whine and complain about how shitty the team looked in week one. There is enough of that everywhere (with obvious good reason). No, these previews aren't recaps, they are about looking forward and enjoying football, which is the most awesome-est sport in the world. In fact, as I said to the Yachtsman earlier today, I can't fully write this team off yet. I just can't. Because really, who am I betting against? If the Bills continue to suck, then it's just another year where by week 10 I have my Sundays back. Cool. However, If the Bills bounce back and show some of that early season 2011 spark, then maybe, just maaaaaaaaybe these ass clowns can still pull it together and all hope won't be lost. Naturally, as a fan I prefer the latter, but at this point in my life, I'm just going to enjoy football season and hope for the best. Brace yourselves, the Scizz is trying to keep things positive! Check it out after the jump....

As I was marching up the tunnel to MetLife Stadium on Sunday, marveling at how lucky Jet fans were that the Giants built them a new stadium, an asshole in a green jersey started to rail me and the Barrister about losing the Bills. Lost in a haze of hops and kielbasa, I countered with a hoarse, incoherent version of "Buffalo will never lose the Bills!"

Then karmic displacement came and booted me directly in the ass in the form of this article.

We're fucked.

Let's not focus on the government coming in and having to help the Bills build a new stadium. That's a foregone conclusion/argument to engage in on some other day. Let's focus on the reality of the situation. The facts are as follows (stipulation that Ralph lives forever):

- We do not have a remotely competitive stadium in the current NFL climate.

- The economy of New York State is depressed.

- The franchise cannot afford to build a stadium because the owner's wealth comes solely from the team.

- The state, county, and even league will have to help renovate the stadium to keep the Bills viable.

All of this adds up to one giant pile of suck the week before the home opener.

In my mind, there is no time that both brings ex-pat’s together and makes them long for home like the start of football season. If you’re away at a decent sized college really anywhere east of the Mississippi, that might mean befriending the only Buffalonian in your class, even if that person is someone kind of strange you’d never hang out with on a regular basis. As an adult, this means heading down to the Bills bar in your new home -- or if your town doesn’t have one -- heading to the bar in town in your Bills jersey to show off your true identity as a Western New Yorker. I feel like at the start of the season, these games (which, when it comes down to it, are meaningless to everyone except the front office) are more meaningful to those living outside the area because it gives them a chance to identify with their hometown in a way that they can’t sitting around at the office or with their friends. I can certainly say, as a former ex-pat, that those games have additional meaning when you’re back home to embrace them again.There are many reasons people leave the area, but the most common I believe, outside of going away to college, is for a career. This is when it comes down to black and white numbers and, as an adult, numbers really dictate everything. I was no different, although while my reasons were both logical in this way, they were completely misguided in others. I didn’t go to New York, or Boston, or DC, or Charlotte, or any of the outposts that gain a sizeable Buffalonian contingent with their own watering holes and other ex-pats to make friends with. No, I went to Montpelier, Vermont, and the first time I ever saw the town in person was when I showed up for the bar exam with everything I owned already packed away in my car (research!). You see, there are no Bills bars; there are only four bars. The only time people approached me was when they thought my Bills hat was a Giants hat. I realized only a couple weeks in, when these meaningless games started, that unlike most ex-pats, the Bills games (and later the Sabres games) would not provide an opportunity for me to feel immersed in the fandamonium back home, but would make me feel even more isolated. Of course, this was a reasonable observation any of my friends made leading up to my relocation, but what can I say: when The Outlander makes a decision, HE MAKES A DECISION, no matter how absurdly detrimental to the long term. I just noticed I could have described George W. Bush with that statement so I’m going to go throw up real quick.